Timber

Chapter Forty-Eight: Baiting The Trap

Hazel wiped away the delicate beads of sweat at her hairline, her dirt-covered fingers leaving grainy umber tracks across her pale skin. Stepping back from the tree, she felt her arms ache from exertion as she scrutinized her work. Before her stood a thick pine, its trunk straight as a pin, now sporting a deep wedge-shaped gash at its base. The flesh beneath the bark was light, flaky, and unnaturally soft. Sighing in satisfaction, her eyes drifted from the tree before her to another one several meters away with an identical cut. She scanned further down the slope of the District Seven tract, studying each trunk scarred by an axe's blade. The damaged trees formed a winding path leading toward the center of the arena.

Hopefully, it would be enough. It had to be enough. Breathing in a sweet lungful of the forest air, she turned back towards the top of the hill.

Silus labored, heaving his red-bladed axe at the base of a massive redwood near the summit. His arms tensed and stretched as he tore at the bark with his axe, his slices more precise, deeper, and well-practiced than hers. She watched the wood chip away as if he were cutting through an apple, his practiced strokes making the task seem effortless. The size of the wedge cut he was making was unnatural; it shouldn't have been possible for him to create such a large gash alone. What should have taken a team of men many hours, Silus was able to do in a fraction of the time. Glistening beads of sweat wormed their way down his back, and his shirt bore a growing stain.

Reaching into her backpack, she retrieved the last bottle of drinkable water. She raised it to her cracked, dirt-stained lips and closed her eyes as she swallowed a lukewarm but still satisfying mouthful. It had the earthy flavor of watered-down soil, but she couldn't care less. Once quenched, she trudged up the incline until she stood behind her brother. He was still hacking away when she interrupted, "Care for a drink?"

Silus paused and wiped the sweat from his brow as he rested his blade on his shoulder. He turned from his work to taking in her approaching form, eyeing the glass container in her palm. "Someone has to make up for your slacking," he said, nodding toward the more minor wedge cut in the pine behind her. The familiarity of the words and the interaction wasn't lost on her.

She handed him the bottle and played along, "First of all, my axe is much smaller than yours. Second, remind me to reconsider my generosity when I bring refreshments and get sass in return." She watched him take a sip, but his eyes never left hers. The conversation felt like home. God, how I wish we were home.

Hazel yearned to be back in District 7, far away from the arena, Caleb, the Capitol, and all the death and horror. However, there was no time for dreaming or wishful thinking. Afternoon had settled over the arena once again, and they needed the light if her plan was going to work.

"Without your five-star service, where would we be?" He responded, swallowing another large gulp.

She murmured, almost as if she were talking to herself, "Someone has to keep you in line."

"Some things never change," he echoed softly. His expression told her he knew they were reliving this conversation, but the context was very different this time. Still looking out for me... even when I don't want you to." He took a deep breath and rested the axe on his shoulder. She did her best to ignore the growing hardness that filled his features.

"I don't like any of this, Haze," Silus commented, handing the water bottle back to her.

Hazel reached out and took the glass from his hands. "I know you don't. But it's the best I can do at the moment," she said softly.

He shook his head. "I still think we should just leave together."

"We will. Let's do this first, and then we will," Hazel said, searching his face.